


Common Ground

by flintwoodandco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Children, Cameos, Confessions, Falling In Love, Family, Fred Weasley Lives, Gen, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Hogwarts, Secrets, Separations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintwoodandco/pseuds/flintwoodandco
Summary: The war is over, but Oliver still harbors a secret only a few know the truth about.He knows it's time he tells Marcus, but he can't bear to possibly lose the one person who helped him through the past ten years.Someone he considers his own son, despite the child bearing almost every resemblance to Marcus.





	1. Chapter 1

Oliver watches the field move with the wind. It sways and folds in an endless ocean and he’s almost tempted to grab his broom. He wants to join in to the melody, feel the air and all that surrounds him. Instead, he brings himself back to take the kettle off the stove, filling up two mugs just as the front door bursts open. 

“I’m home!” a voice calls from the hallway and Oliver turns as a boy with tousled dark hair and stormy blue eyes races into the kitchen. “Did you see the news, Da?”

Oliver smiles, bringing the mugs over and setting one in front of the boy, ready to listen. He’s read the newspaper several times today, but he knows his son’s excitement in telling him the story.

“Montrose made it to the World Cup! Dad’s proper famous now isn’t he?”

A small laugh leaves Oliver as he’s reminded of the poster that hangs above the boy’s bed. “I suppose he is, Ruairi. Marcus has gotten far.”

Oliver breathes steadily as Ruairi goes on and on about Montrose’s latest game, how they were brought to victory yet again by Marcus’ plays and the seeker’s catch early on in the game. Ruairi’s eyes are shining bright with a pride Oliver can only just relate to, his opinion of Marcus twisted over time. 

After all, Oliver did never try to find him after the war. Instead, he kept Ruairi to himself, afraid and unhinged in this hole he dug on his own. Marcus had his fair share of apologies to offer, but both had made it clear that what happened between them was long gone. 

Now, Oliver pushes his own feelings to the side and pulls something out of his pockets that he’s been saving for Ruairi’s birthday. 

“Why don’t we go to the World Cup then?” Oliver grins, sliding two tickets over to Ruairi. 

The mouth dropping open, eyes growing wide, Oliver’s chest grows warm and he holds his son close, his regrets fading for what little time is allowed.

* * *

_Oliver jolts out of bed to the knocking on his door. It’s too late and his mind goes to the worst as his steps down the hallway are silent and sure. With a wand raised, he’s ready to fight or apparate, whatever decision has to be made. A small sob comes from the other side of the door and Oliver braces himself as he stares through the peephole._

_Still untrusting, Oliver opens the door just a crack, staring at the woman crying before him._

_“Oliver,” her voice begs as she takes a step forward. There is something in her arms, a suitcase by her feet and Oliver glances around for any sign of a trap._

_“What are you doing here, Amelia?” Oliver tests, a warning should this turn wrong._

_Her tears continue to fall, her breath shuddered before she finally collects herself to speak. “They’re after me. I’ve got no choice now. I have to run, but I can’t take him with me.”_

_Turning the bundle in her arms, Oliver swallows at the sight of a small baby, face scrunched up and dark hair beginning to curl. Already he can see Marcus in this child and he looks away, knowing what Amelia is asking of him._

_“Please, Oliver. I know you can keep him safe. Give him the life he deserves.” She’s desperate, her hands clutching onto her child while holding him out to Oliver. “Who knows what will become of Marcus and myself after the war. I can’t let my child live like that.”_

_A spewing anger grows inside Oliver, a blame ready to lash out. The arranged marriage, Marcus’ cowardice, and now this, Oliver is forced to clean up after Marcus’ problems. Oliver knows better than to take it out on Amelia, but this is too much._

_“You’ll come for him when this is all over?” Oliver questions, his gaze piercing and unwelcome._

_With a small shake of her head, Amelia doesn’t bother to hide her tears, her face turned to the side. “I don’t think I’ll survive and even if I do, I don’t want him growing up with someone like me. They say we can be better than our parents, yet I’ve fallen into their same trap.”_

_Oliver doesn’t understand her reasoning, her ability to give up so easily. With a whole lifetime ahead of them, there is change. There is something waiting for all of them and yet, Oliver keeps his mouth shut. She’s seen the darkness of the world, nearly consumed by it herself and a speech isn’t going to make her change her mind in this instant. The help she needs won’t come soon enough and Oliver drops his guard, his empathy taking over._

_“Does he have a name?” Oliver asks when the baby is in his arms._

_“No. No one knows about the baby. I...I don’t know why I haven’t named him.”_

_Oliver doesn’t push for an answer and gives Amelia one last glance as she turns to the stairs. He wonders what else the two don’t know about each other, but he supposes a death eater doesn’t have time to divulge information._

_Amelia makes her way down the steps, her pacing sluggish and heavy as if the ground is swallowing her up. Oliver steps out of his place just enough to watch her descend, an aching in his chest tearing him apart._

_“Stay safe, Amelia,” is all Oliver can get out, a lump tight in his throat._

_A soft smile tugs at Amelia’s lips, her eyes shimmering with an autumn whisper and she gives Oliver a nod as she leaves._

_Watching her go, Oliver thinks to yell after her, to make her stay, but she’ll only end up slipping away while he sleeps. Her mind has been made, steel determination like Marcus, and Oliver retreats into his place, exhaling when the lock clicks._

_Just then, the baby in his arms squirms and Oliver’s tears, long absent since the beginning of this whole mess, fall down his face in memorized trails._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyo 
> 
> long time no talk
> 
> where did this idea come from? i had no clue but i hope it's a halfway decent one
> 
> hope y'all are well!!
> 
>  
> 
> [Blue Hellsite](http://flintwoodandco.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the summer brings a few exciting events

“Da, look, look!” Ruairi points excitedly at the sky as Montrose shoots past them. 

Oliver follows his son’s finger, amazed at the accuracy of finding Marcus and just like that, his breath is taken away. 

Despite everything, Oliver watches Marcus with a passion he’s held since Hogwarts, falling into Marcus’ every turn and twist. He can see Marcus’ focus, plotted across the sky in increments as he speeds towards the goal. 

“To the left, idiot,” Oliver mutters to himself, watching as France’s keeper begins to predict Marcus’ move. 

Just when Oliver thinks Marcus is going to blow it, he bolts sharply to the left, the quaffle flying through the ring as it gives Montrose another set of points. 

The crowd cheers loudly and Oliver can’t help joining in, the excitement of the game catching up to him. For now, he can ignore the pit in his stomach and his need to play Quidditch again. He hasn’t regretted his decision to leave. Ruairi came first, parenthood a joy he never imagined. Only occasionally did the thoughts return, itching under his skin, but Oliver pushed it to the side, focusing his mind on other things. Especially now that Ruairi would begin his first year at Hogwarts in the fall.

“Da, what’s he doing?” Ruairi breaks Oliver’s thoughts, tugging on his sleeve.

His gaze shooting to the sky, Oliver watches as Marcus drops and shoots up, the opposing chasers practically on top of him. Oliver smiles at this, shaking his head at Marcus’ antics. 

“Did this back in school. Watch the beaters.” 

Montrose’s beaters, in perfect, timed precision, send the bludgers into France’s chasers, all three being knocked around in various ways. With only one chaser able to follow after Marcus now, there is no stopping him and he passes the quaffle just as his teammate flies up. Her aim is true, sending the keeper for another loop and Montrose’s lead isn’t even fair to the other team. 

When the snitch is finally caught by Montrose, Oliver is exhausted from all the cheering and careful calculations of Marcus’ moves. The celebrations continue on as everyone leaves the pitch, Oliver barely noticing the crowd surrounding the Magpies.

“Want to ask him for an autograph?” Oliver glances down at Ruairi, who’s taken to staring at the team.

“Don’t be silly,” Ruairi blushes, shaking his head vigorously. “Who asks their dad for an autograph?”

Oliver lets out a sharp laugh, thankful it’s hidden amongst the crowd mullings, and sets a hand on Ruairi’s shoulder. 

“All right. Maybe next time.” Oliver knows better than to coax Ruairi, the two making their way back to the tent practically unseen. 

Once inside, Oliver settles down in a chair as Ruairi flops down on a bed, his gaze on the lining above him.

“Promise me something?” Ruairi asks, his tone shy, and this makes Oliver nervous. “When I go to Hogwarts, you’ll try out for Puddlemere again?” 

Oliver smiles to himself, reminded of how bright Ruairi is and meets his eyes just as the boy rolls over to look at him.

“I promise,” Oliver responds, ignoring how his mind instantly rushes to the thought of playing against Marcus again. 

He’ll try to stay true, that much he can guarantee and it’s only then Oliver begins to worry over Ruairi’s first year at Hogwarts.

* * *

The station is packed as usual and Oliver grumbles to himself about wizarding laws forcing them down to London as they navigate Ruairi’s trolley through the crowds. He’s surprised he hasn’t led them into running over anyone, breathing a sigh of relief as they get Ruairi onto the train, trunk and all. 

“Just send an owl if you need anything,” Oliver swallows, already missing his son. 

They hadn’t been separated a day since Ruairi came into his life and now to have nearly a year without him grips tight onto Oliver’s fear. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ruari grins, giving Oliver a hug. “You can send me an owl every day if you’d like.” 

Oliver laughs as a tear spills from his eye and he gives Ruairi a peck on the top of his head before letting him disappear into the carriage. Stepping back onto the platform, Oliver breathes in, shaking, as other children file on, his son long gone from his sight. 

“Wood!” Hands crash onto Oliver and he wipes away his tears as he’s greeted with familiar red hair.

“Fred, George. Thought you two had a shop to run,” he teases as they guide him into a hug with Angelina and Lee.

“What and not help our friend through this emotional time?” Angelina scoffs. “You know I wouldn’t have given them the chance.”

Grinning, Oliver watches George and Angelina mock argue while Lee and Fred watch on as if they’ve already placed their bets. 

“How’s Ruari?” Angelina asks, breaking away from the argument as Fred goes to chime in. 

“Oh, good, great. He’s excited to go. Been ready since he was a baby,” Oliver answer quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, but you aren’t, are you?” 

Angelina’s smile is comforting, as if ready to take whatever Oliver has to spill on her. Angelina took to Ruairi quickly after the war, babysitting every chance she got to the point where Oliver wondered when she and George would start a family. They have their own timetable, Oliver is sure, though he is eager for their firsts.

“He has to leave the nest eventually,” Oliver shrugs, gazing at the smoke disappearing on the tracks. “And I’ve got to adjust.”

Angelina nods her understanding, but she opens his mouth to say more, a question waiting on her lips. “Is Flint still out of the picture?”

If it were anyone else asking this, Oliver would clam up, ignore it all and switch the conversation. With a heavy sigh, Oliver’s shoulders drop, a tightness growing in his chest. 

“Yeah. I...I need to tell Marcus eventually. I know the mess I’ve created. I just....”

“The war did a lot to us,” Angelina cuts in gently. “I can understand why you were afraid. Still are.”

The is a large pause between them and Oliver glances over at the twins and Lee, amazed at how their argument has turned into an intense discussion over snack boxes. 

“I think it’s amazing. The fact that Ruairi doesn’t hate him, that he’s grown up knowing his dad is part of a different world,” Angelina starts up, bringing Oliver back to his reality. 

The corner of Oliver’s mouth twitches as guilt builds up inside of him. He didn’t want Ruairi to hate Marcus as he did, yet he hasn’t even given Marcus a chance at forgiveness. Opportunities presented themselves and Oliver hid away, as if worried Marcus would throw away Ruairi, spit in their faces. Marcus has surely changed, but Oliver lets his fear consume him like a wolf eating at his heart. 

“I’ll fix it. After Ruairi comes home for Christmas.”

Angelina seems approving of this, giving Oliver a nod just as the twins and Lee come back over to them. 

“Well, who wants lunch?” Fred asks the group and Oliver is ready to have his mind distracted just a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is there anything you all would like to see?
> 
> this is still a wip and i'm a little unsure where to go (like i've got the next couple of chapters planned out but after that....)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://flintwoodandco.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Hogwarts looms above them and Ruairi swallows, his nervousness twinged with happiness. He feels right where he belongs as they enter the castle, his gaze turning every which way to soak in the new sights. 

When a tall witch with a sharp face greets them and opens the door to the Great Hall, Ruairi’s face breaks into a smile. He only wishes Oliver was with him to share in the moment, but he knows he’ll find some familiar faces soon. He almost collides with another student as they pause near the front of the room and his mind strays as Professor McGonagall and the Sorting Hat go through their introductions. 

With his eyes wandering around the room, Ruairi freezes at the sight of Marcus Flint sitting at the table with the other professors, his robes so unlike those on the Quidditch Pitch. 

Ruairi can’t take his eyes off the man and it’s only when he’s nudged that the striking grey eyes meet Ruairi’s. With a small squeak, Ruairi looks away only to see McGonagall waiting and he rushes up amongst the scattered laughter. Sitting on the stool, Ruairi thinks he can still feel Marcus’ gaze on him and tries to focus on the Sorting Hat.

“Hufflepuff, naturally,” the Hat says as if displeased by Ruairi’s racing mind. 

Relieved to be finished with his sorting, Ruairi rushes over to the Hufflepuff table, his eyes boring into the woodwork. It’s only when all the students have been sorted that Ruairi dares looks up again and Mcgonagall introduces certain professors to the students.

“Mr. Flint will be the Flying instructor this year as well as the Quidditch coach. Some of you may have heard of his time here at Hogwarts. I am glad to say he has moved on from his rougher antics and you will learn much from him.”

Marcus stands then, giving a small nod to the student body, and Ruairi is brave enough to watch him this time. It’s the closest he’s ever been to Marcus, save for his posters, and Ruairi wonders what he shares in common with the man. He can see some similarity in their features but he remembers Oliver insisting time and time again how his mother stood out more. 

He can hardly focus on the feast, already anxious to meet Marcus for Flying lessons and by the time he curls up in bed, Ruairi’s exhaustion takes over, leading him to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Turn left, up past the third floor, another round of lefts and rights, Ruari can’t keep it all in his head. The staircase has moved on him twice already, ending with him flustered and out of breath to many classes. 

He’s quite sure he’s lost again until he hears an, “Oi, Ruari!”

Turning to see Teddy Lupin, Ruari lets out a breath of relief, rushing over to the boy. His hair is a striking pink today and his arm waves wildly in the air. 

“Thought you were off to Charms,” Teddy says as the two start down the hall. 

“Yes?” Ruari blushes before confessing that he’s lost his way.

Teddy grins, clapping Ruari on the back. “Me too. Let’s find Professor Flitwick’s class then go to lunch, yeah?”

Now, all Ruari want to do is skip class just to talk to Teddy. Despite both being first years, Teddy seems years beyond Ruari and he can see an understanding in him that he might not get from other classmates. Ruari needs to talk to somebody else about Marcus. 

Yes, his father has provided plenty, but to have someone his age to discuss it with is growing within Ruari as every moment passes.

He gets through Charms well enough, doing his best to smile at Professor Flitwick’s raised eyebrows. 

“It’s the execution,” Flitwick explains and Ruari nods, thinking back to the magic he’s seen at home.

Finally, Ruari and Teddy are off to lunch, Teddy’s hair having changed into neon stripes. Ruari takes this as an excellent sign and plops down with Teddy, their hunger taking over. A few sandwiches are shoved his way, the two hastily eating before Ruari can’t hold it in any longer.

“You know about my dad,” he begins and Teddy is quick to interrupt. 

“Which one?” 

“Marcus.”

Teddy nods, motioning for Ruari to start again. Ruari’s heart races and he grips onto the remains of his sandwich.

“I want to tell him. I want him to know who I am. Do you think that’s silly?”

There is a thoughtful silence between them and Ruari watches Teddy out of the corner of his eye, his fear rising up. 

“No. But he is here for the entire year. Can you handle that?”

“What do you mean?”

Teddy sighs, setting his sandwich down on his plate. “What if he’s not all that? I’m not saying he’s changed since the war, but he could be anyone right now. Might love you with all his heart, might try to turn his back on you.”

Ruari has thought about this time and time again. It’s the reason he’s held back from meeting Marcus after Quidditch matches, why he hasn’t rushed to Marcus office to tell him everything. Yet, despite it all, Ruari thinks he’s come to an absolution. 

“Yeah. I’ve still got Da. At the end of the day, we’ll get each other through this.”

“There’s your answer then,” Teddy grins. 

There’s a knowing gleam in his eye and Ruari wonders who has been in the lead this entire time. He gets a friendly nudge from Teddy, small laughter breaking between them before Ruari rushes into talking about his other classes. He doesn’t want to bore Teddy with talk of his fathers, but somehow, Teddy still turns the conversation back to them.

It’s nice, Ruari thinks, to have someone who doesn’t mind, who really listens, and it gives him all the strength in the world to face what’s ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add a character last minute lmao
> 
> [Blue Hellsite](http://flintwoodandco.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

Ruairi struggles to pay attention to Marcus’ words as he introduces the class to their first day. All he wants to do is talk to him, find out everything he could ever know. He doesn’t even care if he scares Marcus off. Ruairi would rather that than never speaking to him with this opportunity. Registering Marcus’ lesson enough, Ruairi stands next to his broom, his “Up!” strong and the broom shoots right up into his hand. Other children struggle with their brooms and Ruairi looks around, hiding his grin at excelling already. 

“Good job, Ruairi,” Marcus nods as he passes by then taking his post again by the time all students have their broom up. 

Ruairi’s heart thumps in his chest as he memorizes the way Marcus looked at him and his mind sees little else. By the time the lesson is over, Ruairi’s impatience has built tenfold as he follows his classmates into the castle, a need resting heavily inside him. Ignoring the prospect of a free period, Ruairi finds his way up to Marcus’ office and he stares at the wooden door. All his dreams could come crumbling down in a second, but he has to know.

With a shaking hand, Ruairi knocks as loud as he can and shifts on his feet as he waits for any response.

A gruff, “Come in,” is all it takes and Ruairi rushes in, slamming the door closed behind him. 

He leans against it, as if for balance, staring at Marcus with an intensity he hopes matches Oliver’s.

“Oh, Ruairi,” Marcus sets his papers down, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What can I help you with?”

Ruairi gulps, his fear keeping him against the door and Marcus’ expression softens. 

“Would sitting down help?” Marcus asks, stepping behind his desk to give Ruairi more space.

With a nod, Ruairi steps over to the chair in front of Marcus’ desk, his voice caught in his throat. He doesn’t even know where to start and he sits in the chair, his feet dangling just above the floor. 

Marcus sits down as well, his expression intense and Ruairi summons whatever strength he can to say something.

“Hi. I’m Ruairi Wood,” is all that comes out. Ruairi reddens immediately, a small huff leaving him. 

“Nice to meet you, Ruairi. I’m Mr. Flint. Or Marcus Flint if you prefer.” Marcus’ voice is gentle, calming down Ruairi’s nerves and Ruairi breathes in to start again.

“I know who you are. I’m a huge fan. My Da and I have been to every one of your games. I call him Da, but you’re my Dad. I mean, you’re my real dad. Amelia had me when you were gone and Da’s raised me ever since.”

Catching his breath, Ruairi watches Marcus, almost amused by the contortion of expressions that pass on Marcus’ face. 

“Run...run that by me again.” Marcus blinks harshly and shakes his head before meeting Ruairi’s eyes. 

“Amelia Pucey, my mum, she didn’t know she was pregnant until after you left. She gave me to my Da, er, Oliver to keep me safe during the war. He was just too afraid to tell you about me.”

The room is filled with silence, Marcus and Ruairi staring each other down with the revelations. Ruairi almost wants to cry, but he grips onto the chair and turns his gaze down to his swinging legs. 

“Wood,” Marcus breathes out and Ruairi whips up his head.

Marcus’ face is buried in his hands, his shoulders tight as a shuddered breath leaves him. Ruairi doesn’t know why, but this worries him and he gets up from his seat, edging around to Marcus’ side. 

“I’m sorry,” Ruairi whispers, his hand reaching out to Marcus’ arm. 

Marcus flinches at Ruairi’s touch, his hands coming down from his face and he follows the retreating hand until he’s looking at Ruairi again. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Marcus sighs, turning to better see Ruairi. “I...your father and I have a lot we needed...still need to work out. I should be the one apologizing.”

Ruairi doesn’t say a word, his stomach turning as he waits for Marcus to continue on. 

“I’m sorry for everything,” Marcus begins, his eyes just as tumultuous as Ruairi had imagined. “I can’t make up for lost years, but will you allow me to be a part of your life? Or I guess I should be asking your Dad that…”

“You’re my Dad. He’s Da,” Ruairi corrects and then flips open his bag, rummaging around his books. “He misses you. He stares out the window all the time.”

Pulling out a photograph of a small house surrounded by a field, Ruairi holds it out to Marcus, his heart lifting when Marcus accepts it.

“That’s our house. I can tell you the address too. You should visit him.”

“Would he even want to see me?” Marcus glances between Ruairi and the photograph, his voice smaller than Ruairi would’ve ever expected. 

“I think so,” Ruairi says with the most certainty he’s ever felt in his life. 

He’s heard Oliver cry behind closed doors and then show the complete opposite when telling Ruairi about his time at Hogwarts. If Oliver really didn’t want to see Marcus, Ruairi thinks he wouldn’t have even known about his existence. That alone says it all to Ruairi and he reaches out again to give Marcus’ hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Can I call you Dad when we’re not in class?” He asks before he makes his departure. 

Marcus looks up from the photograph, something shimmering in his eyes and he gives a singular nod. With a bright grin, Ruairi runs to the office door, waving his goodbye as he heads off to his class that he’s probably late for. 

With his spirit lighter than air, Ruairi runs through the halls, ready for whatever lays ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for all your lovely comments ;v; 
> 
> it keeps me going and i swear i'll answer them soon!! my work schedule has flipped around and also i'm just really tired all the time lol
> 
> but thank you for sticking with this!!! <333


	5. Chapter 5

The familiar crack in the night makes Oliver’s blood turn cold and he grabs onto his wand, his knuckles already white. He knows he shouldn’t be afraid anymore, but nothing will ever change this part of him. With hesitant steps to the door, Oliver almost screams at the sound of knocking, then catching his breath as he opens it just a crack. 

The wand clatters to the floor and Oliver steps away, his foot catching on the edge of the rug until he ends up flat on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, Oliver convinces himself it’s just a dream until familiar, rough hands help him up and he’s forced to look at Marcus.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Oliver blurts out, glancing around for his wand.

“Ruairi.”

Oliver freezes, the blood draining from his face. Ruairi’s name leaving Marcus’ lips is impossible and Oliver balks at him for an answer.

“I’m the new Quidditch coach at Hogwarts. I teach Flying lessons too.”

“What? You left Montrose? When?” Oliver can’t help the stream of questions that fall from his mouth, his thoughts twisting every which way. 

He needs answers to everything and he can’t hear them all soon enough.

“More like forced to. My manager thought taking a year break would be good for me,” Marcus responds, calm and unperturbed by Oliver’s frantic tone. 

Collecting himself just enough to grab his wand from the ground, Oliver steps over to the living room, his movements sluggish as if he might faint at any moment. When he sits down on the couch, he buries his head in his hands, waiting for Marcus to continue.

“Ruairi came to see me today. After his class. Told me, well, as much as he knows,” Marcus joins Oliver in the living room, sitting across from him in a worn leather seat. 

Oliver’s breathing is heavy in his ears, his world crashing around them. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Oliver was just starting to plan, to set things right. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about him, Oliver?” Marcus’ voice is rough, accusations tinging each syllable. “My own son. Did you not care?”

“Did you?” Oliver looks up from his hands, a familiar bitterness on his tongue. “You just left. You left me, Amelia, and Ruairi. What did you expect?”

Marcus huffs in exasperation, shaking his head as inaudible words leave his mouth. “I left to protect you. To protect her. Hell, if she had told me about Ruairi, it would’ve been to protect him too. Staying was putting you all in positions I didn’t want you in.”

Oliver glares at Marcus, not wanting to hear these words now. Years too late, Oliver is in no mood for apologies, let alone explanations. 

“Were you ever going to tell me or were you just going to keep him to yourself?” Marcus asks with a coldness that washes over Oliver. 

“Of course not,” Oliver spats out. “I was looking for the right time. You were gone after the war and suddenly you show up back in the country when he’s five, star chaser for the Magpies. I wasn’t going to drop a child on you then.”

Oliver runs a hand through his hair, his anger leading his every action. He’s mad at Marcus, himself, the world, and he sighs when the feeling settles in his stomach. 

“Look, there’s things we both need to explain to each other,” Oliver begins, slow. He doesn’t want to lash out, as much as he thinks he needs to. “I’m sorry I kept Ruairi away from you. My fears shouldn’t have controlled so much.”

“I’m sorry too,” Marcus answers after a slight pause. “My father’s dead now, I won’t be running anymore.”

Despite that Marcus’ apology isn’t what Oliver really wants, he nods, remembering how much control Marcus’ father had when they were just boys. Oliver wishes he understood, if only so their conversation would open up instead of hiding behind the walls they’ve built. 

“I should get back,” Marcus stands up, making his way to the front door. 

Oliver takes a moment before he follows Marcus’ lead, holding the doorknob as if he might fall without its support. 

“Send Ruairi my love, will you?” Oliver speaks softly as Marcus crosses the threshold. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Marcus gives Oliver a smile that breaks Oliver’s heart all over again and Marcus nods. 

“Of course.”

This time, the crack doesn’t scare Oliver. He’s left alone with the night fog, standing in the doorway and all he wants to do is run out into the darkness after Marcus.

* * *

The sun beats down on the castle and students bustle to and fro, some on their way to class, others enjoying the warmth. A few cast a wary eye towards the professor and student sitting on the fountain’s ledge, but let them be, allowing themselves to be whisked away in rumors. 

“We saw your premiere game for my birthday,” Ruairi speaks around a mouthful of his sandwich. “I don’t remember much, but I know I was excited.”

Marcus listens with ardent interest, trying to catch up on eleven missed years in whatever Ruairi is willing to divulge. He figures it’ll be a while before he can get much else out of Oliver, hoping enough apologies and actions will bring Oliver back to him in time. 

Ruairi continues on, recollecting his years growing up surrounded by the Weasleys more than anyone. Marcus smiles a little at this, wondering how everyone there is getting on even if he knows he’s not welcome amongst them. 

“Oh, Professor Longbottom! Have you met my dad?”

Marcus pales, slow to meet Neville, who’s stopped a fair distance away from them. There is a thick silence as Neville glances between Marcus and Ruairi, his face a picture of confusion and hostility. While Marcus had never picked on Neville in particular, he did turn a blind eye plenty of times when the Slytherins went after him. 

Now as adults, they had avoided each other up to this point, until Ruairi blurted out what Marcus considered was a secret. 

“Hi, Longbottom,” Marcus breaks the staredown first with a little wave. “It’s a long story. Oliver is Ruairi’s adoptive father, I’m his biological one.” 

“A typical British family?” is what comes out of Neville’s mouth and Marcus’ face turns scarlet red. 

Marcus turns to Ruairi for help and the boy hops off the fountain, bounding over to Neville. Pulling him out of earshot, Marcus thinks he should join them and trails after Ruairi just as he hears Amelia’s name mentioned. 

It still hurts after all these years. With no word from her, Marcus has assumed her hiding under a new identity or worse, dead. He knows better than to search for her and he tries to focus on the conversation at hand. 

When Ruairi is finished, Neville looks at Marcus for confirmation and Marcus nods. 

“You don’t have to be friendly to me now or anything,” Marcus reassures. “I know my classmates were horrible and I apologize for that.”

“Thank you,” Neville answers with a strength Marcus only wishes he had. “Well, I guess at the very least, we can start on a new slate. Neville Longbottom.” 

Neville holds out his hand, his face a determined set and Marcus can’t help but take Neville’s offering.

“Marcus Flint.”

There is a brief moment, a quirk of their mouths before both men drop their hands, stepping away as students pass through again.

“Well, I better get going,” Neville nods, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. 

With a quick goodbye, Marcus is alone with Ruairi again and his son sways in his spot.

“Sorry I told him that. I’m excited I guess,” Ruairi avoids Marcus’ gaze, heading back to the fountain. 

“Hey,” Marcus approaches him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “It’s not every day you’ve got two famous Quidditch dads, huh?”

Ruairi’s head whips up, his eyes searching Marcus’ face before he breaks out into a big smile. He wraps his arms around Marcus tightly, hugging just long enough that Marcus knows other students are staring and Ruairi runs back to the fountain, sitting down and patting the spot next to him. 

Marcus laughs a little to himself, a weight lifting from his shoulders and he goes back to his seat, ready to listen in on whatever Ruairi wants to talk about.


	6. Chapter 6

Oliver wants to see Marcus. 

Since the fateful night, Marcus has lingered in his thoughts, even more so than usual and Oliver thinks he might burst. 

In a hasty decision, he invites Marcus over for dinner. All he wants is to talk. They can be civil, he’s sure, and with the weekend, Marcus won’t have to be pulled back immediately for school reasons. 

Now, looking at his mess of a kitchen, Oliver curses himself for planning such a thing in the first place. Completely unprepared, Oliver doesn’t know what he’s cooking and at this point, he just hopes it’s edible.

With the knock on his door, Oliver practically runs out of the kitchen, taking a moment to compose himself before he opens the door. 

Marcus is dressed in classic dark robes, a small pot of flowers in his hands and Oliver tries to ignore the heat that creeps up the back of his neck. 

“From Longbottom,” Marcus holds out the pot. “Said it’d bring the room together or something.” 

“Thank you,” Oliver smiles, taking the pot and sending it into the dining room with his wand. “Oh, uh, come in.” 

Stepping to the side, Oliver watches Marcus enter the house, his presence domineering despite that it’s just the two of them. He stands out against the soft yellows of the house and Oliver finds it a refreshing change. 

Shaking away his thoughts, Oliver runs back to the kitchen, trying to sort the last of things as Marcus stands in the doorway.

“Need any help?”

Oliver stares at the overflowing pots, the sauce spluttering all over the stove and he bows his head in defeat. 

“Yes, please.”

Oliver steps to the side as Marcus brings out his wand, waving it in mesmerizing circles when he approaches the stove. In an instant, everything blends back together, water where it should be, lids adjusting properly into place. Oliver can only watch with tired amusement as Marcus fixes his mess as if there had never been a problem at all.

“You had everything right it was just-”

“-execution,” Oliver sighs, remembering Flitwick’s criticisms. “Thought I had improved since then…”

“Well, I’m not picky. It looks excellent,” Marcus is reassuring, and Oliver gives him a smile as he pulls out various silverware. 

Wordlessly, the two set up the table together, the dishes floating in from the kitchen. It’s nice, the comfortable silence, the painted domesticity. Oliver can see himself getting used to this and he sets to filling up the plates as Marcus’ eyes follow him. 

“How’s class?” Oliver asks as distraction, prodding at his food as he waits for Marcus to take a bite first. 

“Good. All the students are wonderful and Ruairi is an amazing flyer. He told me you flew with him every chance you got.”

Oliver ducks his head, happy and a little embarrassed that Ruairi mentioned such a thing. 

“He’s a good kid, Oliver. You’ve done an amazing job.” 

Glancing up at Marcus’ compliment, Oliver meets the piercing grey eyes that had taken his breath away since the very beginning. He wants a new start, but he needs to know Marcus will follow through with his promises. With a heavy sigh, Oliver abandons his plate to say what has haunted him for years.

“When Amelia showed up on my doorstep, I almost turned away. I wanted nothing to do with you, even if it meant pushing away those who were your friends. Then, she gave me Ruairi and...all that mattered was him.”

Oliver’s hands clench and he turns away from Marcus’ gaze. 

“I tried playing for Puddlemere when he was still young, but he needed me and I knew what I had to do. Yes, I was selfish. I was afraid of him loving you in a way he would never love me. I was afraid of you not accepting him.”

Marcus shifts in his chair and Oliver waits for an interruption before starting again.

“But, every day he proved me wrong. I could see the same pride in his eyes, fearless, strong. He loves us both, forgiven us for all we’ve done and…”

Tears prick at the corner of Oliver’s eyes, a shaky breath leaving his body. He doesn’t want to get so emotional over this, but it had never been easy to keep his emotions inside. 

“I think I should do the same. Forgive you and myself. The war...we can’t change what happened and who we became. But Ruairi doesn’t want us to dwell in the past.”

Oliver flinches when Marcus pushes his chair back and he sinks into his seat, turning as Marcus comes to his side. The two stare into each other’s eyes, tears falling freely from Oliver’s. Marcus reaches out, his hand grabbing onto Oliver’s and bringing into close to his face. 

“Together,” Marcus breathes. “We can do this together. Whatever it takes.”

Leaving his chair, Oliver falls into Marcus and the two hold onto each other as if this is their final moments. With the rise and fall of their chests, they’re certain of their hearts beating together, pulling apart just a moment to look in each other’s eyes. With a small hesitant kiss, their cold facades break piece by piece, the breathes on their faces almost unreal. 

With straightening shoulders and a tight grip on Marcus’ wrist, Oliver leads him out of the dining room, towards the stairs.

Tonight, their new life unfurls, carried away in lingering whispers and hypnotizing touches. A soft rainfall keeps them safe and the two are light in a moment of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i....have actually been v motivated for flintwood lately....so hopefully i get some other stuff out soon


	7. Chapter 7

Marcus wakes to the sun just beginning to spread over the horizon. He takes in his surroundings, the night before playing over and over in his mind. It’s his turn now to say his part, even if his is just an explanation for his cowardice. Oliver deserves to know what happened, that much is certain. Shifting onto his side, Marcus tucks his arm under his head and gazes at Oliver’s face. The bags under his eyes worry Marcus and the lines remind him just how much time has passed.

It hasn’t been fair to anyone and Marcus hopes what he can offer will be enough. Will make up for some of the ache that has consumed him for so long. 

He reaches out, his hand tracing down Oliver’s face, pulling back a little when Oliver begins to stir. Mumbling out nonsense, Oliver turns into the pillow, his nose scrunching up. Marcus can’t help the small laugh that leaves him.

“Sorry,” he whispers when Oliver shuffles closer to him. “Usually, I’m the last one to wake up.”

“I remember,” Oliver sighs into his chest, throwing his arm across Marcus’ back. 

Amazed at how such a simple gesture brings his emotions forth, Marcus curls around Oliver, hair tickling his nose. If only he and Oliver could stay like this for the day, but Oliver’s energy has just begun. 

“All right, I need to make tea,” Oliver begrudgingly pushes away from Marcus, sliding over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No,” Marcus wraps his arms around his waist holding him down. “We’ve got a whole day, let’s enjoy this.” 

With a laugh, Oliver swings his legs back over, crawling under the covers as Marcus scoots over.

“You make a good point,” Oliver snuggles back into him. “Ruairi used to wake me up at five in the morning, did he tell you that?”

“Sounds like him,” Marcus chuckles, his fingers running along Oliver’s back. 

The mention of Ruairi brings back a heavy shadow on Marcus’ heart and he shifts on the bed a little, hoping this gets Oliver to look at him.

“I should’ve talked to you. To Amelia. I had promised both of you I wouldn’t let my father control me any longer. Except, he was always the merciless one.”

The arranged marriage had been the last straw. While Marcus adored Amelia as a lifelong friend, the marriage took away their freedom. He can remember Oliver’s anger, their screaming as neither thought properly. They loved each other so much and Marcus thinks that’s where he went wrong. He had dragged Oliver through the worst, even now he’s a bit shocked to be lying in bed next to him.

“I felt trapped and went to what I was raised with. To me, there wasn’t any other option. It’s a shame I’ll never be rid of. I tried to leave again after the war, but you were never far from my mind. I joined Quidditch as a way to see you, but by then you were gone and I thought my chances were spent.” 

Marcus breathes, checking on Oliver to see him watching, silent and unwavering. 

“I gave up too easily. My entire life I have, and I don’t want to do that anymore. For you, Ruairi, myself, I want to be as strong as you’ve been. I’ll do what I can to show you I won’t break any more promises.”

Cupping Oliver’s face, Marcus tries to steady his breathing as a chill creeps up on him. A wave of nausea passes and Marcus turns away as his body shakes. 

“Marcus, I’m here,” Oliver’s voice drifts into the fog that blocks Marcus’ mind. “Focus on me, look at me.”

Blinking harshly, Marcus moves his fingers against Oliver’s cheek, to feel the stubble and skin as his body becomes grounded again. With Oliver coaxing him through, Marcus stares into Oliver’s face as if it’s the first time in his life and he takes control of his body again. 

“Sorry, it’s…,” Marcus shakes his head, embarrassed of his mental state.

“Don’t apologize,” Oliver responds instantly, brushing away some of Marcus’ hair. “We’ve been through hell and back.”

Marcus says nothing, his breathing still labored. How is it after all this time they can still be tender with each other? He doesn’t deserve Oliver’s softness, but at this thought, he can’t help huff. 

“What?” Oliver asks as he tilts his head.

“Ruairi.”

It’s all the answer Oliver needs and the two grace the room with soft smiles. Yes, there are still wounds to heal, but for the first time in a while, they have the days they need.

~

_“If both of us leave, they’ll know.”_

_Marcus hates the truth Amelia whispers. He just wants his friends safe. They matter more than family ever could, but all of them are intertwined in a deadly trap._

_“They won’t harm me,” Amelia starts again. “As long as they believe I’m loyal, you and my brother are safe”_

_“But, we’re cowards then. Leaving you behind to deal with our faults,” Marcus can’t help hiss out._

_No one ever wanted this, the future of a death eater. Marcus, Adrian, and Terence had planned their escape for months, but loose ends caught fire, leaving Marcus with practically nothing._

_Amelia smiled, somber and wavering as she watched Marcus pace around the room. “As your friend, as your wife, I’m asking you to do this.”_

_Marcus’ steps halt and all the air from the room is gone. Amelia is too good, much like her brother. Marcus can’t stand it, but he lets Amelia wrap him in a hug as his thoughts tear him apart._

_“I need you all to be happy. When this war is over, we’ll make these wrongs right.”_

_Oliver’s face flashes in Marcus’ mind then and he frowns. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed a happy ending at this rate. He turns in Amelia’s arms and stares into her piercing eyes. He can already see her destruction and he tries again to convince her to run away._

_“No,” she speaks firmly. “I’ve always been good at playing the part. You know that.”_

_Marcus isn’t sure he does anymore, but the first of his tears fall and his arms find their way around Amelia’s waist. There isn’t enough time to say goodbye and yet neither can help themselves as they fall into an embrace._

_All they can do is pretend. Pretend the other is someone else, pretend that nothing is wrong with the world. Nothing makes sense anymore and they don’t try to figure it out as they crumble into each other._


End file.
